Defender of the Innocent: The Casebook of Martin Ehrengraf by Lawrence Block

too—lamb chops, filet mignon. You just about have to steal them these days, don’t you?”
    Ehrengraf, a recent convert to vegetarianism, offered a thin-lipped smile and thought about pie and cheese.
    “But Martin Ehrengraf himself,” Cutliffe went on. “One no more thinks of you in this context than one imagines a glamorous Hollywood actress going to the bathroom. Martin Ehrengraf, the dapper and debonair lawyer who hardly ever appears in court. The man who only collects a fee if he wins. Is that really true, by the way? You actually take murder cases on a contingency basis?”
    “That’s correct.”
    “Extraordinary. I don’t see how you can possibly afford to operate that way.”
    “It’s quite simple,” Ehrengraf said.
    “Oh?”
    His smile was fuller than before. “I always win,” he said. “It’s simplicity itself.”
    “And yet you rarely appear in court.”
    “Sometimes one can work more effectively behind the scenes.”
    “And when your client wins his freedom—”
    “I’m paid in full,” Ehrengraf said.
    “Your fees are high, I understand.”
    “Exceedingly high.”
    “And your clients almost always get off.”
    “They’re always innocent,” Ehrengraf said. “That does help.”
    Hudson Cutliffe laughed richly, as if to suggest that the idea of bringing guilt and innocence into a discussion of legal procedures was amusing. “Well, this will be a switch for you,” he said at length. “You were assigned the Protter case, weren’t you?”
    “Mr. Protter is my client, yes.”
    “Hardly a typical Ehrengraf case, is it? Man gets drunk, beats his wife to death, passes out, and sleeps it off, then wakes up and sees what he’s done and calls the police. Bit of luck for you, wouldn’t you say?”
    “Oh?”
    “Won’t take up too much of your time. You’ll plead him guilty to manslaughter, get a reduced sentence on grounds of his previous clean record, and then Protter’ll do a year or two in prison while you go about your business.”
    “You think that’s the course to pursue, Mr. Cutliffe?”
    “It’s what anyone would do.”
    “Almost anyone,” said Ehrengraf.
    “And there’s no reason to make work for yourself, is there?” Cutliffe winked. “These IDC cases—I don’t know why they pay us at all, as small as the fees are. A hundred and seventy-five dollars isn’t much of an all-inclusive fee for a legal defense, is it? Wouldn’t you say your average fee runs a bit higher than that?”
    “Quite a bit higher.”
    “But there are compensations. It’s the same hundred and seventy-five dollars whether you plead your client or stand trial, let alone win. A far cry from your usual system, eh, Ehrengraf? You don’t have to win to get paid.”
    “I do,” Ehrengraf said.
    “How’s that?”
    “If I lose the case, I’ll donate the fee to charity.”
    “If you lose? But you’ll plead him to manslaughter, won’t you?”
    “Certainly not.”
    “Then what will you do?”
    “I’ll plead him innocent.”
    “Innocent?”
    “Of course. The man never killed anyone.”
    “But—” Cutliffe inclined his head, dropped his voice. “You know the man? You have some special information about the case?”
    “I’ve never met him and know only what I’ve read in the newspapers.”
    “Then how can you say he’s innocent?”
    “He’s my client.”
    “So?”
    “I do not represent the guilty,” Ehrengraf said. “My clients are innocent, Mr. Cutliffe, and Arnold Protter is a client of mine, and I intend to earn my fee as his attorney, however inadequate that fee may be. I did not seek appointment, Mr. Cutliffe, but that appointment is a sacred trust, sir, and I shall justify that trust. Good day, Mr. Cutliffe.”
     
    “T hey said they’d get me a lawyer and it wouldn’t cost me nothing,” Arnold Protter said. “I guess you’re it, huh?”
    “Indeed,” said Ehrengraf. He glanced around the sordid little jail cell, then cast an eye on his new client. Arnold Protter